Some AU Call of Duty fanfiction
by Mishamishamisha
Summary: This was my Senior Paper. It's unfinished. Probably won't finish it. I was gonna just delete it, but I realized... It'd be a bitchin' Call of Duty fanfiction. Four soldiers are sent into irradiated Pripyat, Ukraine amidst a bloody war. OC.


Abrupt ending warning!  
This was my Senior Narrative paper, kinda... It was only supposed to be like, 3 pages but ended up being like, 7. Most of it got lost on my ex-fiance's computer when we split up. I really don't wanna lose it again, which is partially why I'm uploading it...

but at the same time, it'd make a bitchin' AU Call of Duty: Modern Warfare fanfiction. Oneshot, maybe. A big ass one-shot.

Maybe I'll get motivated enough to do something with it one day. Probably not. But it's here either way.

I changed the names/some of the little characteristics of the characters to match the ones from the game. They were a little different.  
Revlon's all mine though. I made her all by myself.

I used to have an ending planned for it... God knows what happened to it. I forgot.

Oh, and I was gonna add in some more safety equipment to protect them from like, you know, the ridiculous amount of radiation around but I forgot. Oops.

* * *

_"Soldiers are the strings that politicians pull to reach their goals when there is no compromise. We aren't strings. We're men. Men who get shit done."_

The speech continued to reverberate through the four-man squad hours after they'd left base in a helicopter destined for Pripyat, Ukraine. General Shepherd was a wordsmith if there ever was one; getting through the briefing took work, having to sift through his flowing words to get to the actual point. He obviously didn't know how the UKSF generally operated: forward, straight to the point, with no show accompanying.

Four years ago, had intel come in stating the elite of an American terrorist group's supply and base were holed in an abandoned cancer-sea, it would've been disregarded and earmarked near-impossible. But, given the recent years, it didn't sound so far-fetched.

Information was leaked into the American Department of Defense back in 2012, proving Russia had been providing scientists and resources to both Palestinian and Iranian nuclear programs. The U.S. promptly withdrew from UNESCO1, who had just voted Palestine in as a member. With the United Nations being so close in regard to UNESCO, it sparked an immediate outcry from allied Nations, demanding to know why the US pulled away so suddenly with no obvious and viable reason, cutting away a large chunk of funding for good causes.

The American government shared their information during a UN summit, of Russia supporting Palestine and Iran in creation of nuclear weaponry. Many members of the UN proclaimed the intelligence was faulty. Some members even claimed -appalling Americans- that the evidence had been fabricated to justify themselves leaving UNESCO so suddenly, using all of it as a ploy to attempt to get Palestine voted back out and in bad favour with many countries. And, with Palestine in bad light, the rest of the countries would support Israel: longtime allies of the U.S.

The United States of America was formally expelled from the United Nations. Everything was turned upside down with international relations in a year. Two years passed before the bombings started.

The first occurred in Sochi, Russia, a popular resort town bordering the Black Sea. An American tourist stepped out into a heavily crowded street, swearing in the sky triumph in the name of the United States, and detonated the explosives attached to his torso. That was the first. Following that, no Russian supercity was safe: St. Petersburg, Samara, Omsk, Kazan…Moscow.

The first cry of reciprocated war from the Russians was symbolic. Blood from thousands of Russians ran through America's loose fingers; Russia's first attack didn't result in many deaths, but the meaning was clear when the Statue of Liberty crumbled into the sea. They'd been at war ever since; other countries were reluctant to cross in the fire.

"LZ in sight. Status?"

The pilot's terse question brought the four soldiers out of their quasi-reverie, where they'd each been lost in all different directions; thought, memories, even the sunset. They each gripped their equipment packs.

An SAS operative searched the ground below, to the west, with a sniper rifle. "Spotted. Looks clear." He set down the rifle and removed his sunglasses; they'd be impractical now that the sun was setting. It was the first he'd revealed of his face since they'd left their base in Belarus.

"Drop in less than 5."

The scenery was chilling. A town, thirty years before, populated by families who had ties to the nuclear plant nearby; in one night, thousands of lives were changed radically, having to abandon all belongings at once and evacuate. Genetic defects were still present, generations later.

One of the men in the back, Roach, blew out a big breath with a stretch, breaking the still silence nonchalantly. "I don't know about you guys, but I'm definitely ready to get dropped into this irradiated wasteland." It croaked a laugh even from Ghost, the somber-looking lieutenant.

He replied through thick cockney, "I hope you guys remember the mission." The other three looked up questioningly; he let them stare at him for a minute before continuing with a suppressed laugh, "You know, hunting for timeshares and great vacation spots."

"I think I'd like that place beside the Ferris wheel there," one of the two Captains was female: Leigh Cameron, codename Revlon, SBS to the core. Ghost had a sense of humor after all, much to her approval. She'd went to speak again, but the helo began to drop, cutting off any further communication as they readied their decent.

There was another captain aboard; he stood up and went to hook his rappel first. Had this been the civilian world, Captain MacTavish may've been an imposing man. Unlike the rest of his team, he didn't don the typical black op garments; no, he preferred to stay with his tight, breathable sleeveless attire in shades of brown. It was almost comical, with the rest of the team dressed to slink in the shadows.

Ghost picked up the abandoned rifle as Revlon clipped her hooks on, as well. Their formation was a bit unethical; two Captains, each hailing from sister regiments, and their respective second-in-commands. They were all on technical leave, operating as freelancers for the moment. Such was common, especially during politically sensitive times. As it was, the General who had briefed them was American. They were to investigate reports of a terrorist cache.

When MacTavish was finished readying himself for descent, he turned to look at the rest of his team. Ghost and Roach waited for a recap of their orders.

"We've went over this a hundred times, I don't expect you to need me to say this," he barked over the chopper blades; his distinct, gruff Scottish voice was barely understandable through the interference. They all clamped hands over their earpieces to listen better. "Revlon and I will land first. You two keep an eye on us from the skies -with all the radiation, we won't have an Overlord that can see anything definite. So, once we're all down, we're on our own until we light flares and call for an exfil. We'll scout for a moment, then we'll contact you."

Revlon made eye contact with the pilot. "Worm, stay low, so we don't have to waste flares. Try to keep out of range, though. This area should be good."

She received a curt nod in return and turned, back out the door, lowering herself carefully. She didn't have to look over to know that MacTavish was doing the same. They let go a second apart, slowly being fed more cable before they got close enough to a building to leave themselves down.

Once their feet were safely on the ground, MacTavish immediately informed their two above. Without the helicopter blades cutting the air, she could once again hear him talk clearly -it made her laugh. He shot her a look, half curious, half glaring. "What?"

"S'been a while since I've had a Scot back in Hamworthy. We don't get them much in Stepney, either." She commented through a chuckle, taking the silenced M16 off her back.

"Stepney, eh?"

"Yeah. It's a shithole." Satisfied with his smile, Revlon held up a finger and tapped a few buttons on her radio. "Overlord, this is Echo Six One. We've touched ground and are ready to move out and scout ahead. Echo Six Two will be joining us shortly and we'll merge. Switching channels after your go."

The affirmative reply she got was nearly incomprehensible through the static. She swapped back to their squad channel; a faint conversation could be heard between Roach and Ghost. MacTavish motioned for her to head on.

Though the city still seemed abandoned, they moved forward with rifles raised behind cover. Thirty years of abandoned structures and everything was still relatively standing; with some work, it may have become habitable again… if the Geiger counters didn't go haywire. "I can feel myself growing cancer," Revlon murmured, rounding a corner. "I can't imagine why anyone would want to stay here for any period of time."

MacTavish grunted. "Exactly. Nobody would suspect it. The way Shepherd put it, they just house all of their supplies here. No need for a locked up safe when you have a nuclear red-zone for cover. There's probably a huge storage of explosives somewhere nearby."

"Speaking of…" Cameron gestured to their feet; bullet shells. She bent down carefully, picking one up to examine. "Fresh. You can still smell the gunpowder. You don't think our helo was spotted, do you?"

The male Captain's calloused fingers reached forward and took the casing from her hand. He stared at it for a moment before static poured through the radio. _"Movement detected. Repeat, movement detected. We've got a secure location on you, Echo Six One; there's movement about fifty meters to the west. Tread carefully."_ Roach warned; Ghost was feeding him information from the background, likely staring down a thermal scope to the ground.

Right when the words hit their radio, both of the Captains had dropped to the ground. MacTavish had taken role of primary CO, Cameron being his second, he made the call. "Neutralize them, then lead us to their position." He dropped the casing and looked to his partner. "Guess Shepherd's intel was off."

"He told us if we saw anyone, shoot first and dig through the bodies for answers later.

"If there are six getting ready to patrol in this dump, there's probably a meeting going on somewhere. We need to find their HQ ."

"Remember, this is mostly an intel run." MacTavish shot her a side look. "Well, you sound like you want to take it.

Ghost cracked in, _"Targets neutralized."_

"Great. You and Roach fall in, we'll meet you at their location. Hustle to catch up, we'll be taking it slow. I trust you to drop in wherever you deem is safe. You've got the sights, after all."

"_Sir. Rendezvous ETA 5 minutes. See you soon, Captain."_

Revlon gripped her rifle tight. That meant there was probably a gathering of hostiles close by; and they were only a four-man squad. Face steely, she trudged on silently, crouched behind every bit of cover she could find.

They were just about to cross what used to be a street, near the bodies, when she snatched MacTavish back. "Tangos on our two. They haven't spotted the bodies yet." He turned quickly, lifting up his silenced carbine. She took the situation. "Take the left. Three… Two…"

"Good," MacTavish huffed under his breath, checking their corner again before proceeding.

Roach and Ghost met them right at the same time with a sharp nod. They each bent down to search the different bodies in haste; Roach was the first to find anything definitive in the form of crumpled papers. "This isn't English." He stated, smoothing them out partly and throwing them on the ground between them. Ghost took one, as did Revlon.

"Captain, you're a linguist," Roach watched Cameron raptly as she examined the paper. After his statement, as did the other two men.

Her green eyes flittered across the paper quickly, a sparkle of disbelief growing with each line. "I'm not sure," she reached for other papers, sifting through them.

"We're kind of pressed for time here," MacTavish reminded her impatiently, moving on to the other bodies.

Standing sharply, Cameron folded the papers and stuck them in her breast pocket. "That was a letter from this man's family… his family in _Lermontov._ His wife's name is _Alyona._ These are Russian men."

"I'd say that," Ghost grunted, "Look at this one's tattoo. That's Cyrillic."

MacTavish stood. "What the fuck are they doing here?" He looked down and noticed Revlon unhooking one of her claymores; he gestured for them all to back up. She situated it amongst the bodies in the hard earth, then stood and went to toying with her radio. He shook his head. "We've still got orders. If we see any more, we'll neutralize those, too."

"Sir. I know about the direction they came from."

"I can't get in contact with Overlord or Worm," Cameron spat suddenly, turning on her heel. "We need to report this, but with all this fucking radiation waves are getting scrambled through the cloud."

MacTavish wasn't too happy about this development, either; but, as the CO, he was left to lead them in by following orders: eliminating anyone in sight. "We're continuing. Ghost, take point. Revlon, pull up the back. Let's move."

There was no further incident for another 20 meters; Ghost stopped suddenly, waving the rest of the team to join him. "This building is sealed."

The two-story building, besides being sealed, was otherwise unremarkable in comparison to the rest of the ghost town. MacTavish was about to suggest they pass it when Roach spoke up. "Look at the ground. Foot traffic. I think we've found our base."

The SAS Captain lifted his eyebrows, impressed. "Good job, boys," his voice was beginning to be hoarse from talking so low. "I don't see any sort of opening. We might have to jeopardize our cover with C4."

"Sir! C4 could detonate everything inside!" Cameron exclaimed, hushed. "Let me have a try." She took a standard issue knife and ran it through the door's cracks, blunt-side first, holding onto the door to keep balance. Nothing misplaced caught it. "It's just sealed. There's nothing behind it. Shoot right here, here, and here from that angle. I'll catch the door."

MacTavish followed her lead; she turned to the side, shielding herself from any flying pieces from the door, holding the rusted handle tight. After the hinges busted from the bullets, she was able to slowly lower it to the ground. Roach and Ghost ran in, sweeping the room quickly.

"Breached. SBS: 1, SAS: 0," she said quietly, lifting her rifle and following in.

It was clear that the interior of this building wasn't the same as the night when Chernobyl blew. There was no trace of the previous occupants left; the building had been gutted with cheap whitewash on the walls. Even the carpet had been ripped out, tiles pried up, walls between rooms torn down, and insulation gutted from the roof, replaced by a thin lead sheet.

"Staircase up is out." Ghost breathed. MacTavish nodded slightly, not wanting to make too big of a noise until the rooms were clear. The lieutenant began to call the room clear when the aforementioned captain hushed him.

He took his canteen out and twisted it open. The other three looked on curiously as he stepped about the room, crouched down to silently pour water around. When his was empty, he gestured for another.

In the northeast corner of the room, the water quit running; it dropped off into the crack where what might have been a living room met a kitchen. "We've got our entrance." Only the microphone picked up Ghost's voice, he was being so quiet. MacTavish nodded from his spot beside the crack, taking his knife out and wedging it in, taking key from the incident moments ago. It went straight through, easily, not hitting anything on the other side. He gestured for Revlon to come.

The deafening silence was broken the closer she got to the hole cover. Voices were vibrating it gently. She motioned for MacTavish to help her move the concrete cover, if only a little, and pressed her ear to the crack.

_"S nami bog."_ Was the first thing that hit her ears; Russian. Russian prayers. The shock was visible on her face; the three others were staring at her intensely. The voices below continued, speaking of different oblasts and the leadership in the areas. Of what cities were prospering. Of what city would be able to withstand the next bombing.

Revlon jolted up, looking up at MacTavish at hearing his; not a moment too late, either. A large, jagged knife thrust through the break in the floor, right where her face bad been. A silent gasp sent her tumbling backwards onto the floor. After thunking back, she'd reached for her sidearm -Roach was already caught up, however, and shot the knife clean out of the hand that carried it. The owner cried in pain, alerting the rest of whoever was down below.

"Move, move!" MacTavish snatched Cameron up by the arm, half dragging her up and across the room.


End file.
